Far From the Fire
by MidnightDeception
Summary: AU. Kuchiki Byakuya is the CEO of a large company, but what happens when he meets a mysterious redhead not once, but twice.  ByaRen
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Warning: AU, BL, LOL, and various other acronyms. I do not own Bleach or these characters; this fic stands independent of my others. This one goes out to rotorviator (sorry, I haven't had time to write you back, I've been spending my free time on this gem). Not a one-shot, but who knows how many chapters it will be (not I, said the writer)? It all depends on the amount of feedback I get. Please read and review, even flames are welcome. Please keep in mind that this is eleventh division attack dog Renji, not follow you cute puppy Renji. That will come later :D Love, MD.**

Heavy rain pelted a lonely figure walking against traffic on poorly lit sidewalks. A pale hand appeared from a dark pocket and clutched the jacket collar, trying in vain to keep the icy water out. He bent his head lower against the rain, dark hair plastered against pale skin. Ducking into an alleyway, narrowly missing a gaggle of running school girls, the man threw a despairing glare at the gloomy sky. Navy blue eyes squinted against the dirty drops before closing completely. He continued down the alleyway, keeping to covered doorways and metal overhangs, his white trench coat grey with water.

He paused in front of a nondescript door with peeling red paint. Glancing down the empty alley, thin fingers locked around the rusting handle and began to turn. Disappearing inside, the tall man let out a sigh of relief as the warm air enveloped his body. He stood in a dark hallway, the only light coming from an open doorway at the opposite end of the hall. The air was heavy with the smell of coffee and the sweet scent of baked goods.

The man shrugged out of his sodden jacket and hung it on a hook nailed crooked into the wall behind the door. Silently, he breezed to the end of the short hallway. Smoothing his white collar over the black lapel of his vest, he passed through a small kitchen, the cook on duty never even registering the taller man half hidden behind steaming pots. Pausing behind a purple swinging door, the slender man pushed a hand through his dark, damp hair, almost sighing as three long pieces fell stubbornly back into his face. Ignoring them, he pushed the door open and walked out into a crowded room.

The small coffee shop was more crowded than usual. Everywhere, people sat in groups of twos and threes, enjoying each other's company in the warm atmosphere of the shop. Tables and couches were placed around an elevated stage which was currently empty except for a piece of slate resting on an easel. The promise of live music and free coffee with an order of soup was scrawled across the blackboard in bright, bubbly handwriting. Tearing his eyes away from the stage, the dark-haired man began searching for an empty table. Finally locating one, close to the dark, drafty front windows, he lightly pushed his way through the crowd to claim the tall table for two as his own. Sitting down gracefully, he steepled his pale fingers and calmly gazed out the window. Occasionally, a particularly loud bit of conversation would float his way before disappearing back into the din. The man hummed tunelessly to himself, wishing to add to the anonymous noise around him.

Two dark hands fell over his eyes, pulling his head back to rest against something soft.

"Kuchiki Byakuya," a woman's husky voice purred in his ear. "You do know we own a front door, right?"

"I am as aware of it as you are of my reasons to ignore it," Byakuya started, pushing the surprisingly strong hands away from his face, "Shihouin Yoruichi." He turned to look directly at the woman, but only managed a glimpse of a wicked smile before she moved to sit down across from him. She fell easily into the chair, lounging on the uncomfortable metal like it was the finest rug. A black halter top showed off gratuitous amounts of dark skin. Matching black tights hugged her generous curves, her only accessory being the white and black wrappings around both forearms. Byakuya looked up into the catlike golden eyes of one of his closest friends, her dark purple hair flicking back and forth like an anxious tail.

"I may know those reasons, but I don't understand them. Is my place really so out of fashion to keep you from coming here publicly?"

Byakuya opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the flick of a paper fan.

"Whose place, Yoruichi-san?"

Two sets of eyes turned to face the owner of the voice. A tall, pale man stood next to the table, one hand tucked into the dark green yukata he was wearing, the other slowly fanning him, failing to conceal the large, unsettling smile on his face. Even in the darkness of the shop, he wore a striped green and white bucket hat pulled low over pale blond hair.

"You know what I mean, Urahara," Yoruichi amended, standing. "I guess I'll be getting back to work. What do you want tonight, Bya?"

Flinching inwardly at the nickname, Byakuya answered, "Just tea, please."

Yoruichi didn't even bother asking for details before she wandered off in the general direction of the kitchen. Byakuya was left to sit stoically under the unnerving stare of the shop keeper, the two beady eyes gleaming with mischief from the shadow of his hat. Refusing to fidget in front of the man, Byakuya folded his hands in his lap and looked calmly out the window. In the glass, he could see both of them reflected, confirming the feeling of the gaze that could be felt down the dark haired man's spine. As the silence stretched, Byakuya braced himself against the awkward situation. Just as he was hoping for the other man to leave, Urahara suddenly spoke.

"We've got a guest performer tonight, whom I really think you will enjoy," he stated, waving his fan lazily.

Byakuya turned away from the window to fix a stare at the blond. That single sentence made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The "innocent" shop keeper knew and was planning more than he let on.

"You have been watching me long enough to know I never stay until time for the live music you pull off the streets," Byakuya stated, his voice guarded and distrusting. "What makes you think that tonight will be any different?"

Urahara snapped his fan shut and tapped the side of his nose. "I just do."

As if on cue, the overhead lights dimmed. For a moment, only the single electronic candle on every table was the only light, outlining everything in a hazy gold. Just as suddenly, the stage was illuminated.

Byakuya turned to glare at the shady shop keeper, but Urahara had disappeared. He suddenly noticed the steaming cup of tea on his table and the suspicious absence of a certain waitress.

Yoruichi was definitely in on this...whatever it may be.

He turned back to the stage in time to see a man emerge from behind the dingy blue curtain, carrying a guitar in one hand and a chair in the other.

Byakuya's breath caught in his throat.

The man on stage was tall and well built, long red hair cascading around his shoulders and catching the light spectacularly. Black tribal tattoos rose from his eyebrows and disappeared into his hair. The man half turned, looking back stage and Byakuya caught sight of dark lines on his neck and shoulders before disappearing under the loose fabric of the white t-shirt he was wearing. He sat the chair down and leaned the guitar against it before heading backstage again. As he moved, he hiked his loose dark wash jeans higher on his slim waist. Byakuya couldn't help but notice the outline of thick, corded muscle under his shirt. The man reappeared, this time carrying a microphone stand, walking carefully as to avoid stepping on the mic cord. He sat the stand down in front of the chair, adjusting it before picking up his guitar and collapsing into the fold out chair. Long, tapered fingers strummed a few cords before he shifted in his seat and looked up, out at the crowd.

Almost immediately, their eyes locked. A sharp-toothed grin spread across the man's face. Byakuya looked quickly away, fighting the feeling of heat climbing his neck. He stared hard into the rain-splattered glass next to him, studying the reflection of the man on stage.

A young couple, sharing an umbrella passed by the window, only pausing to read the specials sign and debate on entering the coffee shop to get out of the rain. The woman was the first to notice the dark-haired man staring intently at them. She leaned closer into her boyfriend as his expression darkened menacingly. The man looked up into piercing gray eyes and almost immediately steered his girlfriend quickly down the street.

Byakuya didn't notice the couple. He was too busy watching the redhead on the small stage. The man sat, ankles crossed, relaxed like he was the only one in the room. He slowly tuned what turned out to be a twelve string guitar, his head cocked slightly as if he were listening with his better ear. His skin was tan, the gold that was so hard to find this time of year. Byakuya watched closely as the redhead struck an out of tune string, seeing his eyebrows furrow at the sound and a muscle jump in his strong jaw as he gritted his teeth. Finally content with the tuning, the redhead launched directly into the first song with no introduction.

Deft hands flew across the strings, weaving a beautiful melody and harmony simultaneously. Byakuya turned in his seat, away from the window, to watch the man on stage closely. He caught sight of a smug looking Yoruichi out of the corner of his eye, but chose to ignore her. The redhead leaned forward in his seat, his hands never slowing on his guitar, closer to the microphone. Taking a deep breath, he began to sing.

Byakuya's mouth went suddenly dry. His pale hand groped around the table in search of his tea, his eyes refusing to leave the man on stage. The redhead's voice was deep and smooth. The baritone timbre in his voice was warm and inviting. Thick lips stretched into a smile as the performer noticed the rapt expressions of his audience.

Finally locating the now lukewarm cup of tea, Byakuya's hand closed around the glass and shakily brought it to his lips. Taking a long drink, Byakuya closed his eyes and tried to regain his composure. There was no reason for this man to be wreaking so much havoc on his carefully maintained calm. He sighed and set down his glass with a soft clink. Looking up, he found the redhead watching him carefully as he sang. This time neither one of them looked away for a long time.

Byakuya began to lose track of time as one song flowed seamlessly into the next. Before he had the mind to finish his tea, the redhead was taking a bow. Slowly, Byakuya pulled his hands together to add to the wild applause that had erupted throughout the room. Byakuya slid from his seat and carefully navigated the room to the restrooms tucked into the back corner close to the kitchen.

It was a small bathroom with only one stall. After seeing to his business, Byakuya leaned over the low sink and turned on the water. Wetting his hands first, he reached for the soap dispenser.

He looked up automatically when he heard the door open behind him, locking gazes with eyes the most interesting shade of red brown. The redhead looked as surprised as he did, but recovered faster, letting the door close behind him, a lopsided grin spreading across his face and his eyes darkening with some unknown emotion. He pushed his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the door, waiting.

Byakuya looked down and began to studiously clean his hands. He tried not to notice the way the redhead's eyes tracked his every movement, his gaze sending waves of heat through the older man. Careful not to drip water onto his clothes, Byakuya reached for a paper towel, inadvertently meeting the redhead's eyes in the mirror. Suddenly, he recognized the look the other man was giving him.

_Hunger._

Focusing again on his hands, Byakuya carefully dried them, trying not to dwell on the redhead's presence. Finally, when the task could be continued no further, he tossed away the paper, straightened his shoulders, and turned to face the other man.

That was when he realized how tall the redhead was. He towered over Byakuya, his legs practically endless.

"Excuse me," Byakuya said, meeting his eyes and not sounding nearly as forceful as he wished.

Suddenly, he was pressed between cool tile and the warm body of the redhead.

"There's no excuse for how hot you look in those jeans." His voice was gravelly, practically a growl deep in his chest. Byakuya was so close he could feel the rumble reverberating in his own chest. He didn't have time to react before lips met his in a forceful kiss.

Byakuya pushed uselessly against the redhead's wide chest, able to feel the hard muscle roiling beneath his hands. He opened his mouth to protest, but the other man took advantage and slipped his tongue inside his mouth. Byakuya was assaulted almost instantly by the taste of cinnamon. The redhead's large, callused hands freely roamed his body, leaving trails of heat and goose bumps in their wake.

Without thinking, Byakuya's eyes slid shut and he yielded into the kiss. Slowly, he began moving with the kiss, not protesting as the redhead angled his head to delve deeper. Of its own volition, his back arched off the tile to press more firmly against the other man. The hands which had been pushing against his chest now roamed it, tangling in long strands of hair. The redhead slipped a knee between Byakuya's legs, putting pressure on a sensitive part. Byakuya gasped, leaving long gouges on golden shoulders as his hands automatically closed. The redhead hissed, but only deepened the kiss further.

Through the kiss induced haze, Byakuya realized what he was doing. He thought to pull away, but his body didn't wish to comply. Finally, he caught the other man's lower lip between his teeth and sucked, pulling a moan of pleasure from the taller man. Byakuya almost lost his resolve at that primeval sound. The knee between his legs moved again and Byakuya's body answered for him. His jaw clenched involuntarily, making him bite down hard enough to break skin.

The redhead growled and pulled away, dark eyes wide with shock. Byakuya watched as his devilish tongue tested the newly broken skin on his lip in disbelief. Byakuya untangled his hands and fixed a look meant to convey disapproval on his face, but it was ruined by his erratic breathing and blushing face. Trying to bring his body under control, Byakuya blinked slowly. He closed his eyes to a grinning face and opened them to an empty bathroom. No longer being held by the pressure of the redhead's body, he slumped against the cool tile and hung his head between his knees to try and catch his breath.

Had he really just made out with a perfect stranger in the middle of a public restroom? As the implications of what just took place began to sink in, Byakuya stood and walked shakily over to the mirror. His lips were red and swollen, his hair and clothes disheveled.

In a daze, Byakuya straightened his clothes and left the bathroom, briefly wondering to himself if he had been chewing gum before.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Mein Gott, its been forever since I posted something. I am so sorry it took so long, but these past few weeks have been terribly busy. I also apologize that absolutely nothing happens in this chapter. It's just a bunch of universe translations and Byakuya aftershocks. I've been searching frantically for a plot, and have yet to come up with one. If you have something you'd like to see in this story, I'm open to suggestions. Love always, MD.**

Byakuya awoke, his eyes opening to the darkness of his room. Slowly, he turned his head and waited patiently for the red numbers on his alarm clock to come into focus. The red glow reminded him briefly of another shade of red before he pushed the thought away.

6:45, the clock stated.

Contented with the time, the dark haired man turned back to stare at his ceiling. He had five minutes before the door would open and his attendant would help him ready for the day.

It was something he was used to by now. Ever since his father had died, leaving a young Byakuya as the heir to a prestigious clan, his life was scripted. There was little variation to everyday, mostly being familial meetings and business proposals.

Except when he managed to sneak away, like last night.

The memory of last night, along with his dreams, rushed vividly into his mind. He could almost feel the heavy breath of the other man as he leaned over him in the bathroom.

On time, as always, the door slid open quietly, revealing a young man bent at the waist. Without waiting for a reply, he straightened and entered the room, closing the door behind him. In the darkness, Byakuya tracked the attendant's movements as he crossed the room to the windows on the opposite wall. He closed his eyes just as the attendant pulled back the black-out curtains, admitting weak, early morning light.

"Kuchiki-sama," he said respectively, "it is time for you to rise."

Byakuya sat up in bed and studied the young man. Though he had no personal qualms with his respectfully bowed attendant, he resented what the man stood for. He was a constant reminder of the expectations of his very traditional family. However, Byakuya had to admit that this one man was much better than the droves of servants that had attended him immediately after the death of his father, a time when he wished to be alone.

"Very well," Byakuya said, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. Before he had a chance to stretch his arms, the yukata he had worn to bed was removed and quickly replaced with a kimono suitable for the breakfast table. As his attendant carefully arranged the clothing and tied the belt, he expertly listed the schedule for today.

"Once you are prepared, I will lead you down to breakfast. After you have eaten, we will return and prepare for your day at work…" The man continued, but Byakuya had ceased to listen.

It had always amazed Byakuya how much emphases his family put on scheduling, to the point that they accessed his work schedules as well. There was seemly nothing that the family didn't have pre-planned for him. His job was one of those things. Many people thought that Byakuya was placed as the CEO of an archival firm through family ties; however he had worked his own way through the ranks. It was something the family hadn't planned, but something they couldn't disapprove of. The clan elders were a very power hungry bunch.

"Kuchiki-sama, with your permission, we will head to the breakfast hall."

Without a word, Kuchiki inclined his head and followed the young servant from the room. One could set a watch to the happenings of the Kuchiki household. Byakuya had grown up under tremendous monotony and had quickly learned to adapt to be comfortable in well planned situations. Right when he had gotten used to his life running on rails, someone had to leave a penny on the tracks.

However, the redhead from last night was much more troublesome than a misplaced penny. Every time Byakuya closed his eyes, he could see the hungry look that sent shivers through his body. Underneath his calm exterior was a seething mass of nerves. How one person could, in a single night, upset such a rigorously methodical calm was completely beyond him. Even as he tried to focus on the present, his mind never failed to stray to the previous night, the most innocent thoughts always wandering the same path.

Breakfast passed in a blur. Byakuya felt his stomach stretched, but couldn't for the life of him tell exactly what was in it. Before he knew it, he was being helped into a well fitted suit, a skinny tie being followed quickly with a black blazer. His hair had been carefully pinned with white clips without him realizing it.

He shook his head to clear it, rejecting ghost touches.

Byakuya stopped the attendant as he reached for a dark grey overcoat, instead reaching for his white trench coat that hung neatly in the closet. The attendant looked at the black diamond pattern on the bottom hem of the coat disapprovingly as Byakuya pulled it around his shoulders. Quickly trying to regain both his composure and the routine of the morning, the young man grabbed a long silk scarf and attempted to drape it around Byakuya's neck. Paying his attendant no mind, he turned and glanced at the alarm clock.

Staring at the numbers, his mind was preoccupied with silken strands of crimson.

"Kuchiki-sama, are you feeling all right? You look pale," the young man asked, concern evident in his voice.

"When I get home," Byakuya started, ignoring the question, "I expect there to be a different clock. One that has a different color light."

"Of course, Kuchiki-sama," the attendant said, confused by the sudden order. "Now, with all due respect, sir, the car is waiting."

With a curt nod, Byakuya swept from the room, the attendant chasing after him waving the scarf.

After a short altercation, Byakuya was seated comfortably in the back seat of a dark SUV, pale silk scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He fingered the soft fabric absent mindedly as he watched the landscape pass by. As they left the estate, trees suddenly gave way to concrete and glass. The identical streets seemed like a maze, the crowds of people only poor little mice.

Slowly, the SUV worked its way through morning traffic. Honestly, Byakuya could have made it to work faster on foot; however, it would be improper of someone of his standing. Attempting to ignore his own thoughts, Byakuya made a study of the tiny squares of sky that could be seen broken by the towering buildings around him. Today was going to be overcast, with just the slightest chance of rain.

Immediately, his mind flashed to the night before, standing soaked in the doorway of the coffee shop. He recalled vividly how his hair was sticking stubbornly to his face as he listened to that man sing. He remembered the smell of rain and cigarettes that had clung to the other man as he had. As the memory ceased, his imagination kicked in.

This time, the kiss was tinged with the taste of blood. With renewed vigor, the redhead's tongue wrestled with his own. Byakuya's hands tangled themselves through long strands of red, using them as leverage to pull the taller man down to his level. Rough, calloused hands found the hem of his shirt and dived under it, warm fingers leaving trails of fire over smooth, pale skin. The other man wrapped his arms around the small of Byakuya's waist, pulling him closer and causing his hips to rock forward. The movement sent a wave of heat throughout his body, a slight moan escaping his lips. Byakuya could feel something pressed against his hip. Fighting for control, the dark haired man shifted forward. The taller man's knees buckled as he growled, the friction proving to be too much. Together they sank to the ground, Byakuya easily gaining control from his better angle.

"Kuchiki-sama," the redhead panted, his voice not his own.

Byakuya blinked suddenly, the bathroom and other man disappearing into the dark interior of the car. The driver was turned around in his seat, a concerned look on his face.

"Kuchiki-sama, we have arrived at Seireitei."

Byakuya nodded, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His imagination was getting to him. A pale hand groped blindly for the handle, finally finding it and opening the door. Without comment, he began sliding out. He paused, one foot on the concrete outside, and turned back to look at the driver.

"You wouldn't happen to have any gum, would you?"

The driver's eyes widened questioningly as a hand disappeared into the inside pocket of his coat.

"Yes, sir, I do. Would you like a piece?"

"What flavor is it?" Byakuya asked, his mind reeling at his own unexpected question. He despised gum.

"Wintermint, sir," the driver answered carefully. For some reason, Byakuya felt disappointed.

"Nevermind," he answered, slipping out of the car. Closing the door behind him, he straightened his clothes and looked around.

The SUV was parked under a covered circle drive. There was a porter dressed in a black suit waiting at the glass doors, one hand on the brass handle, waiting for Byakuya to approach. With a shake of his head, Byakuya strode purposefully into the building, his calm face hiding his uncomfortable feelings.

Seireitei was an office holding the headquarters of thirteen businesses, each seemingly unrelated. Every floor housed a different company, each catering to a different field. Byakuya wasn't aware of what every company did, but he knew of a few. The first floor housed a real estate firm as well as a reception area. The owner of the building was an ex-military man by the name of Captain Commander Yamamoto who also was the CEO of the real estate business. The second floor held a private protection agency, the fourth a small pharmaceutical company, and the eleventh floor housed a rowdy bunch of employees who liked to personally test the sports equipment they produced.

Byakuya crossed the lavish reception area to the silver elevators. He pressed the call button and waited patiently. After the briefest of waits, there was a metallic ding and the elevator door slid open to reveal a single man, dressed in a porter's uniform, standing unobtrusively in the corner of the otherwise empty elevator. With the slightest of nods, Byakuya stepped into the elevator and watched the doors close slowly. The porter pressed a button indicating the sixth floor and then folded his hands.

It was silent except for the faint hum of machinery and a soft jazz melody coming from a tinny speaker hidden in the ceiling. The heat of the building was making the weight of his jacket and scarf uncomfortable, but Byakuya refused to shift his weight.

Finally, the elevator halted.

"Sixth floor, sir," the porter said quietly, his head bowed respectively. The doors slid open with a chime and Byakuya stepped out into a small hallway. Turning to his left, he began the walk to his office. As he passed the reception desk, the small woman that had been sitting behind it stood, grabbed a stack of papers and hurriedly rushed after him. As they wove their way through the maze of cubicles and people, the receptionist prattled off every message left for him, passing him sheets of paper as she explained what form needed to be signed for whom by when. Occasionally, as he passed, an employee would look up from their work and greet him warmly, but Byakuya didn't acknowledge them. As far as bosses went, he was well liked, but known for his detachment, which was fine with him.

Finally reaching his office, he took the remainder of the stack from the receptionist. She stopped speaking suddenly, her gray eyes widening. Byakuya looked at her for a moment before speaking.

"I would like some tea."

That said, he disappeared into his office and closed the door behind him, leaving the receptionist to scramble away on her own.

Byakuya stifled a sigh. He walked over to his large, cherry wood desk and carefully sat the stack of papers in front of the high backed chair. Working for an archival firm, there were always copious amounts of paper work to be completed, but Byakuya prided himself in the strict organization the firm ran on. Carefully, he unwrapped his scarf and hung it from a coat rack, quickly followed by his overcoat. Feeling much better, he sat carefully at his desk, pulling the stack of papers closer to him. Opening a side drawer, Byakuya brought out a fountain pen and a smooth black case. From the case, he withdrew a pair of small, silver reading glasses. He replaced the case and shut the drawer. Carefully, he situated the glasses on the bridge of his nose and began to look over the latest reports.

He soon lost track of the time, working meticulously through the stack of paperwork. It was easier to forget while working.

There was a polite knock at the door, quickly followed by the receptionist's voice.

"Kuchiki-sama, I have your tea and the next batch of papers for you to sign."

Without looking up, he called for her to enter. The door opened, letting in the din of the larger office. There was a clink as she set down the tea and a rustle of papers as she searched for a place to set them on the carefully organized desk. Sensing her confusion, Byakuya pointed to a black plastic inbox resting empty on the corner of his desk. She sighed and placed the papers in their designated place. Instead of leaving, like Byakuya expected, she took a deep breath to prepare herself.

"Also, Kuchiki-sama, the man you hired as your assistant begins work today. He is waiting outside to see you."

Byakuya's pen paused as he thought through what she had said. He faintly remembered picking a file at random and instructing that person to be hired. He never kept assistants for long as no one so far could keep up with his demanding pace and cold exterior. Byakuya continued writing, content with the situation.

"Thank you. Please, send him in."

The receptionist bowed and turned to the door.

"Kuchiki-sama will see you now, Abarai-san."

"Arigato," a deep voice answered, entering the room.

Byakuya almost dropped his pen. That voice…

He looked up, grey eyes meeting with a pair of frighteningly familiar russet eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am so sorry for the long hiatus. I just graduated from high school, and things have been crazy. This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but all together not a bad run. A special thanks to Sakurazu for adding this story to their alerts and reminding me that people are expecting more. Thanks so much for not giving up on me. :D I love you all.**

Byakuya stared openly at the man who had just entered his office. It just couldn't be him. His long, fiery red hair was up in a spiked pony tail, secured in place by a white bandana. He was wearing a black suit that was obviously too large for him, but it looked crisp and professional. The facial tattoos were missing, obviously covered in thick make-up.

Byakuya blinked slowly, trying to clear his mind of any tricks it might be playing. However, there was no mistaking it. The clear, russet eyes held the same piercing look. Even the set of his shoulders was the same. And even if there was any doubt, that smooth baritone voice that sent shivers down his spine could never be mistaken.

Abarai walked briskly to the desk, then bowed. Straightening, a look of surprise crossed his face before disappearing. Byakuya noticed, to his chagrin, that Abarai didn't look at him, instead choosing to focus his gaze on the painting of a masked samurai surrounded by cherry blossoms that hung on the wall behind his desk.

"Abarai Renji, sir. It's an honor to be working with you," the redhead started, still not looking directly at his new boss. Byakuya noticed the tense set of his jaw, the almost defiant crease between his dark brows.

"Go and wash your face."

Abarai looked down, making eye contact. He looked almost comically shocked.

"What?"

Byakuya leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk.

"There is something you shall learn quickly. I do not repeat myself, so I suggest you pay close attention. Now leave. I expect your return to be swift."

Abarai opened his mouth as if to say something, an angry glint in his eye. Byakuya stared back intensely, his grey eyes unblinking. After a moment of tense silence, Abarai lowered his gaze and bowed.

"Yes, sir." He said quietly before he turned on his heel and left. At the door, the receptionist gave him an encouraging, 'you get used to it' smile.

Byakuya waited until the door had shut quietly behind him before speaking.

"Do you still have the file on that man?" He asked, eyeing the receptionist.

"Yes, Kuchiki-sama." She hurried forward and offered a single manila folder from the large stack she was carrying.

Byakuya took it, then motioned for her to leave. She placed the papers in the inbox on the corner of his desk, bowed deeply, and carefully shut the door behind her.

Left in relative solitude, Byakuya leaned back in his chair and opened the file. A picture was clipped to the folder. Byakuya studied it for a moment. Abarai's hair was up, a feral grin on his face. Moving on to the other papers in the folder, Byakuya began studying the man he had hired. Abarai was born in Rukongai, a bad neighborhood in the area. His placement tests were poor, but there was a long list of community service hours. He'd been working in the building for a good length of time, working as a salesman on the eleventh floor. There was no explanation as to why he had wanted the transfer to a different floor.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Enter," Byakuya commanded, not looking up from the file. The door opened and a set of heavy footsteps crossed the room and stopped in front of the desk.

"It says here that you worked on the eleventh floor of this same building," Byakuya finally looked up, pinning Abarai in place with his gaze. His tattoos stood out against his damp, bronze skin in a welcomingly familiar sight. Abarai's angular face looked more complete with the dark lines tracing it.

"Yes, sir," the redhead answered without shifting. Byakuya liked the undaunted look in his eyes.

"You may address me as Kuchiki-sama." Byakuya closed the file and set it carefully on the desk. "I have only one question."

"Yes, Kuchiki-sama?" Abarai sounded wary, but the self-assured look in his eyes never faltered.

"What makes you think that you are cut out for this job, Abarai-san? You may think that because you are strong that you can conquer anything. However, this position requires fortitude, patience, and most of all discipline. If you could not remain on the eleventh floor, what makes you think that you can survive in this company?"

The redhead looked slightly taken aback by the question.

"Answer quickly, Abarai-san. My patience does not lie with those yet untested."

Abarai took a deep breath before answering.

"I chose to leave the eleventh on the grounds of finding discipline. I had reached the extent of my calling in that business and found no more room to grow."

Byakuya pondered quietly on his answer.

"You do realize that I will not go easy on you because of your previous standing within this building, don't you?" Byakuya asked.

"I'm counting on it," Abarai answered, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Byakuya fought the urge to smile as well.

"Also, I will not tolerate any fighting, disrespect, or general slacking off in this company. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Abarai answered eagerly.

"I find that to be adequate," Byakuya stood. "We shall start right away. Your work area is right over there." He gestured toward another desk sitting perpendicular to the door. As he rounded his own desk, Byakuya grabbed a section of paperwork before passing them off to his new assistant, one that he hoped to keep for a long time.

The day passed quickly, though inefficiently. A majority of the day was spent introducing Abarai to his new duties. A slow learner, it took Abarai longer than normal to get used to the procedures. However, he continued to work long after his teachers called it quits. By the time the work day was over, Abarai had mastered a majority of his work. The entire subject of what had happened upon their first meeting was tactfully avoided.

Byakuya sat alone in his office, long after closing time. He was double checking Abarai's work, telling himself that it was for the good of the company, when in reality, he was pushing back the time he had to return to his home.

As he was finishing the last paper, the telephone on his desk rang. Byakuya looked at it for a moment, contemplating not answering. It was after hours after all.

"Hello?" He answered, silently cursing his automatic action.

"Kuchiki-sama," the voice on the other line was vaguely familiar, just distorted enough by the phone to be unrecognizable. "Forgive me for bothering you at work, but your driver is waiting outside."

Byakuya repressed a sigh and leaned back into his chair. Of course his family attendant would know if he wasn't already in the car. He never knew why he expected anything else.

"I was just finishing some important paperwork," Byakuya answered, straightening the pages on his desk audibly. "Tell the driver I will be down in a moment."

"Yes, sir," the attendant answered. "Please do not forget that you are meeting with the family elders tomorrow morning. We need you home and rested as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course." Byakuya answered mechanically. "I shall be home shortly." He hung up, feeling vaguely like a teenager checking in with his parents. He pushed the feeling away as he got up from his desk. His parents were long gone, leaving him alone with the responsibilities of the extended family. He grabbed his coat and scarf and swept gracefully from the room. As he walked between the empty rows of cubicles, he pulled his jacket on and wrapped the scarf loosely around his neck. Reaching the elevator, he pushed the call button and waited stoically, refusing to fidget or cross his arms.

After a moment, the doors opened with a chime. Without hesitating, he breezed in and turned to press the ground floor button, only to find it already lit. As the doors closed, he slowly turned to see the other person occupying the elevator. Hunched in one corner was a hulk of a man, his scarred face partially in shadow. A single yellow eye stared back at Byakuya, a sinister smile on the face.

"Zaraki Kenpachi." Byakuya said, addressing the other man.

"Well, well, if it ain't Byakuya Kuchiki." Kenpachi answered in return. Byakuya and the owner of the firm on the eleventh floor had never really gotten along. There was too much a gap in their temperaments and classes.

Byakuya turned to face the doors, ignoring the intimidating aura around the larger man.

"Still too good to talk to me, eh, Lady-Man. And here I thought we'd be on better terms since I gave you my best man."

Byakuya refused to answer, but looked at him with a cold detachment.

"You know who I'm talking about. Renji, the fighter I sent to you, as a gift. He likes to brawl, I'll give him that, but he's really a softy. Eventually, under you, that bravado will fade until he's nothing more than some pansy with tattoos."

There had always been a sort of rivalry between the two, normally amounting to nothing more than a few verbal jabs. However, hearing Kenpachi's harsh words toward Abarai stirred his temper more than it should have.

"Be careful of what you say about my workers, Kenpachi." Byakuya's voice was low and carried enough of a threat to surprise even him.

"Whatcha gonna do about it, sissy boy? Sue me?"

"I wouldn't waste my time on you," Byakuya answered just as the doors opened on the ground floor. "Just remember that I will not tolerate any slander to my workers. Otherwise, you will find that you are not the only one who can fight."

Byakuya turned and left a cackling Zaraki in the elevator. As the doors closed, Kenpachi called out.

"Be careful. I might just hold you to that."

Byakuya crossed the empty lobby in a fuming silence, his footsteps punctuating his dark thoughts. There was no reason to be so worked up about what was said. Zaraki knew Abarai much longer than he had, but still the words got to him. He pushed the glass door open, braced for the influx of cold air. Outside, a black sedan idled at the curb.

He opened the back door and peeked his head in. The driver turned around in his seat, a question already on his lips.

"Go home," Byakuya ordered.

"But sir, my orders are-"

"Your orders have changed." Byakuya interrupted. "Go to the manor and tell my attendant that I will be home later tonight. There is some last minute business I must attend to."

"But sir-" The driver protested.

"Go." Byakuya's word was weighted with anger and authority. The driver nodded and turned back in his seat. Byakuya stood and closed the door behind him. After a moment's hesitation, the vehicle slowly began to roll away from the curb. Byakuya watched its taillights disappear into the distance before setting off the in opposite direction.

There was no doubt his family would be angered by his actions, but Byakuya couldn't be bothered to care. Maybe it was because of the crisp night air, or maybe the festering and suppressed feeling of anger deep inside, but Byakuya knew that if he returned home, nothing would be accomplished.

He needed to talk with Yoruichi.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much for your patience. I really love all of you. Here, after such a long wait, is the much anticipated fourth chapter. Please, let me know what you think. This chapter was hard for me to write. I'm so out of practice, especially with things like this. LOVIES! :D**

Kuchiki pushed the glass door open and stormed into the café. Carrying the cold night air with him like a cloak, Byakuya stalked through the already crowded room, his grey eyes searching.

"Well, look who used the front door."

Byakuya spun on his heel to face to the voice.

Yoruichi was standing in a corner, a tray loaded with drinks casually balanced on her fingertips. Byakuya walked over and grabbed her free arm.

"I need to have a word with you."

The feral smile on her face faded as she caught the look of anger and desperation in his eyes. Shifting her weight, she broke out of his grip. Turning, she caught the attention of another waitress and waved her over. The small, dark haired girl hurried over.

"Yes, Yoruichi-sama?" the girl asked, her dark eyes wide with wonder.

"Take these to table 5 and cover for me. There are some things I have to take care of." She passed the tray to the girl and ruffled her odd bangs endearingly. "Don't worry about Urahara. If he asks where I am, tell him I'm in the office." Yoruichi turned back to Byakuya.

"Follow me." Without checking to make sure he was following, she pranced toward the back of the shop.

She lead him to a door tucked into a dark corner, almost invisible anywhere else in the shop. Slipping inside, followed closely and closed the door behind him.

The room behind the door was surprisingly large. Yoruichi sat behind a large desk, her feet propped up on the untidy stacks of papers. She crossed her arms over her chest, her golden eyes serious.

"What's got your panties all in a twist?" She asked, her face perfectly deadpan.

Finding his energy and anger gone, Byakuya carefully sat down in one of the plush chairs facing the desk. Even feeling deflated, Kuchiki refused to let himself to fall into the chair.

"The state of my underwear is none of your concern," Byakuya said, almost sighing.

"Take that stick out of your ass and tell me what's got you so worked up. You came in the front door, and this is the second time in as many days that you've been here. I know just as well as you do the crap this could get you into. Therefore, the reason why you're here must be life or death important."

Byakuya looked up from his inspection of the arm chair, meeting her sympathetic yellow eyes. He sighed and began recounting the happenings of the last 24 hours.

"The gentleman whom you brought in to sing last night-"

"Abarai Renji." Yoruichi interjected.

"Yes, Abarai Renji. Well, we had a little run-in in the restrooms here after his performance." Heat began climbing his neck. Byakuya shut his mouth and looked away.

"What kind of run-in?" Yoruichi asked, suspicion in her voice. She dropped her feet and leaned forward to stare at dark haired man closely.

Byakuya refused to answer, instead choosing to stare at the wood grain on the paneled walls.

There was a moment of tense silence. Byakuya fought the feeling of heat leeching into his face while Yoruichi watched carefully for any change in facial expression.

Finally, she leaned back in the large swivel chair and laughed. Startled by the sudden noise, Byakuya turned to look, grey eyes wide. Seeing the honest amusement on her dark face, he relaxed slightly.

"Judging by your face," Yoruichi started between bouts of laughter, "it was at least a _pleasant_ experience."

Again, Byakuya looked away. The action only made Yoruichi smile wider.

"Anyway, the restroom incident aside," Yoruichi continued, finally calming down, "that doesn't explain why you're here now… Unless you wanted me to arrange another meeting?" She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

"I've already met him again." Byakuya murmured, still staring at the far wall. He felt like if he met her eyes, she would be able to see everything that had happened that night.

Yoruichi's ears practically pricked up.

"What was that? You've already met him again?"

Byakuya refused to shift uncomfortably in his chair, even though he was powerless against the blood flooding his cheeks. The way she said it made it sound so… _dirty_. Regaining his composure, began explaining.

"This morning, the new assistant I had hired began working. I'll let you guess who it is."

Again, there was a moment of silence, and then Yoruichi began laughing.

"What is so hilarious about that?" Byakuya asked, irked by her reaction. "This is a terrible thing to happen."

"If I would have known that he would be working for you, I wouldn't have set the two of you up in the first place." Yoruichi wiped her eyes. "Anyway, it can't be that bad."

Byakuya met her gaze, his eyes cold.

"You set us up?" He asked. The temperature in the room seemed to drop suddenly, his words heavy in the air.

"And what if I did?" Yoruichi asked, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the desk top.

Byakuya stared at her for a moment before saying anything.

"I can't believe you. How many times have I told you to stay out of my personal life?"

"About as many times as I've told you that I never listen to what you say. You come in here, tell me about all your problems and expect me to sit back and do nothing? I can't believe _you_. I'm only trying to help you. How long has it been since you've been with someone?" Yoruichi's voice was climbing.

"That is none of your business." Byakuya answered tersely.

"It's every bit of my business!" She yelled, her eyes wild. "I see you in your most honest moments. I see how much you suffer under your family's abuse. I see how much you hate being confined into that which they expect from you. I saw how much you loved life and how much you loved Hisana-"

"Don't bring her into this!" Byakuya snapped.

"Don't tell me what to do! I'm not one of your servants to be bossed around!"

Byakuya looked at her, mouth open, like he had just been slapped.

The door suddenly opened.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in."

Byakuya turned to face the door. Urahara was leaning against the doorframe, hat and fan masking his facial expression.

"I was just leaving." Byakuya stated, standing. Without a glance, he turned to leave.

"Byakuya, wait," Yoruichi's voice was soft. She knew that she had struck a chord.

"Good night, Kisuke." Byakuya said in passing. The shopkeeper dipped his head in acknowledgement before closing the door behind him. Byakuya began his way through the coffee shop when the lights suddenly dropped. Immediately, his eyes turned to the brightly lit stage. The curtain opened and he froze.

Abarai Renji stood on stage, a guitar in one hand, a microphone in the other. His auburn eyes were squinting into the light, trying to look out into the crowd.

Trying not to make any sudden movements or bring attention to himself, Byakuya quietly found an empty table far in the back, while still leaving a clear view of the stage. Before sitting down, he carefully removed his jacket and scarf, laying them over the other empty chair.

After what had happened between him and Yoruichi, Byakuya knew he should leave the shop but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he sat and watched Abarai on the stage.

Kuchiki almost jumped when he noticed the small girl standing at his elbow. It was the same dark haired girl as before, staring up at him with sad, watery eyes. She was holding a notepad and pen, looking at him expectantly.

"May I help you?" he asked, leaning down closer to her level.

"What would you like to eat, Kuchiki-sama?" She murmured in a voice barely audible over the music.

Byakuya mused for a moment.

"Just tea please," he finally answered. He didn't know how long he was planning on putting off the scene that would inevitably occur upon his return home, but he would still eat at the manor.

The girl nodded and scurried off into the kitchen.

Byakuya sat and watched his assistant carefully. It was odd to think of him as the same character from work here in the darkness of the shop. Here, his smile was sly, his auburn eyes hungry. He was a different person here. He enjoyed himself onstage. Even his voice was different. There was no hesitation like the one before asking a question at work. There was only enjoyment, no frustration, no lack of confidence in himself.

Byakuya felt himself bathed in the ambiance of the room. He knew he was in trouble with his family, but he felt as if he could take on the world. Abarai's hauntingly beautiful voice could convince him of anything. There was no limit in this room. There were no rules as long as he was on stage.

The performance ended too quickly. As the redhead gathered his things onstage, Byakuya was putting on his jacket and paying his bill. When Abarai disappeared behind the curtain, the dark haired nobleman slipped quietly out the door and began his walk home.

The cold air took more than the warm feeling of the coffee shop. It took away the feeling of invincibility. It took away the confidence.

As he walked, he slowly closed in on himself, hunching against the bitter wind and wrapping his arms around his middle.

That's when he heard it.

At first, Byakuya dismissed it as a phantom remembrance of the day. But then, he heard hurried steps and his named called again.

"Kuchiki-sama?"

He paused and half turned, facing a panting and blushing Renji, a guitar case in his hand.

"You live this way?" Byakuya asked, letting the other man catch his breath.

"Yeah," Abarai answered, straightening. He flashed a feral grin that made Byakuya's breath catch in his throat. "Let me walk you home."

Too surprised to say anything, Byakuya mutely nodded.


End file.
